Healing
by 0timeaftertime0
Summary: Another take on the events after the dreaded "Bombshells" episode. House comes to a realization.
1. Realization

**A/N: I avoid the medical aspects at all costs because I'm simply lost in that area. It's just not necessary in this story. This is set sometime after 7x15 Bombshells and before House married Dominika (second worst storyline ever).**

**Disclaimer: I do not own House or its characters. Our hearts would hurt less if I did, believe me.**

**Part 1**

I.

After three weeks of trying to hurt Cuddy as much as she had hurt him, House realized that despite his efforts, Cuddy-with the exception of an occasional hurt look-was not going to allow herself to break down in front of him. She was not going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that she was crushed over his now alarmingly increased pill popping or his dangling of hookers in her face.

He had come to this realization alone on a Thursday night. His latest hooker had charmingly babbled on about some "family emergency" (as if he gave a shit) and it was too late to call Wilson over for a beer. After coating his throat with a few or more healthy swigs of bourbon, he decided to relieve his bladder, his mind blissfully dulled. As he pissed, his gaze wandered over a small burn mark on his shower curtain. He had been avoiding looking at it while sober (if Vicodin counted as sober) because it made him think of when

"_Candles? Really, Cuddy?"_

"_Shut up!" Cuddy retorted defensively. "Excuse me if I thought they would help create a relaxing setting for our bath."_

"_And when has any occasion with me really been relaxing?" House waggled his eyebrows and Cuddy couldn't help but giggle._

"_I guess you're right," she said, completely ignoring his smirk at her agreement and continued, "but seriously, what's up with the shower curtain being down? It looks weird and wouldn't-" She stopped speaking mid-word as House was now frantically gesturing behind her where one of the lit candles was burning a hole through the plastic curtain. _

_House was a medical genius, a quick thinker, a puzzle solver. And yet, here was one of the nation's greatest minds stumped at the problem of a home hazard thought Cuddy. Before House could gape like a fish for any longer, Cuddy solved the solution by dowsing the curtain with a cup of water and blew out the remaining lit candles for good measure. _

"_Sorry about that. I'll buy you another curtain." As an afterthought she refused to buying a see-through one._

_House grinned at the idea but instead of commenting further, he simply said, "See? Candles were a lame idea. So much for romance!"_

"_I said they were for relaxation, not romance," she huffed. "And while I may have wrecked your shower curtain," she conceded, "I didn't destroy our genitals like_ your_ bath did, if you remember?" She shot back, referencing their first bath together._

_At that, House could only grin. Cuddy in defensive mode (over a mild issue) was always a cute Cuddy and in this moment her hair was mussed up and she was wearing one of his old tees and looked absolutely beautiful to him. Instead of responding, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head._

House tried to shake the memory from his head but it seemed to be ingrained in his thoughts. That night he couldn't stop thinking about her and that's when he realized his behavior was only pushing Cuddy further from him. It seemed like an obvious thought now, but he had been so determined to hurt her, the love of his life, that he hadn't thought about how hurting her would affect him. And with that realization came his second for the night: That although he had originally thought the only thing that could make his shattered heart hurt less was to hurt her more, was if he could win her back.

II.

House started leaving little presents in her office. Not every day, and certainly not conventional presents either, because when had that ever been his style, he mused. On the Monday following his Thursday night epiphany, he left a pinochle deck of cards on her desk with the words _Because you haven't played Egyptian Ratscrew until you've played with a pinochle deck_ scrawled on a post-it next to it. After several consecutive Egyptian Ratspit losses to Cuddy over a regular deck he had insisted the next time they play with a pinochle one.

On Wednesday he left a tube of lipstick he knew she thought was a shade darker than she could pull off with a note _Because you _can_ pull this shade off._

On Thursday he left a huge Tempur-pedic pillow on her chair. A few weeks before their break-up she had mentioned how stiff her neck had been feeling. _Because who needs a stiff neck when you have to deal with pain in the necks?_

The next Monday he crept into (broke into, if you wanted to quibble over details) Cuddy's office and left a huge stuffed bear. With the exception of its size, the stuffed bear was by far the most conventional gift he had left and the note accompanying it was as romantically traditional as he was going to get. _Because you deserve cute things, always. Share with Rachel, if you can bear it. Get it? Haha._

As he limped back to his office as stealthily as one can with a cane, he wondered what Cuddy thought about her presents. In the past weeks, unless he was purposely shoving his new lifestyle in her face, he had avoided her. Now the roles were reversed. He had hoped to at least make eye contact with her in between each new arrival in her office and now, come to think of it, he hadn't seen her at all. It hadn't occurred to him that this was weird because he had been so obsessed on finding his version of perfectly symbolic gifts and just the right words to scribble on stolen post-its from Wilson's office.

Now suspicious, House decided to stalk Cuddy and find the perfect time to corner her. It didn't take long to find her bustling in and out of the clinic, a place he knew she had assumed he wouldn't step foot in without her commanding it of him. He waited patiently-or as patiently as House could; he was nervously inching the beanie further down along his head and trying to pretend like his phone was the most fascinating thing to him. His cane was hidden discreetly a few feet away in case Cuddy was anxiously scouting his appearance.

Finally after one seemingly endless session with a patient, Cuddy emerged from a room and did indeed scan the room quickly if not nervously. She quickly signed a few forms a nurse shoved her way before hastily retreating to her office. House knew this would be his one moment. He took a deep breath and followed her in.

She was already in her chair, facing away from the door when he entered her office. She whirled around in her chair and her face blanched at the sight of him.

It was true. She had been avoiding him at all costs. Ever since the previous Monday when the gifts had been magically placed on her chair or desk, she had been on edge. She knew they were all from House. If the handwriting hadn't given it away, the uniqueness in the gestures sure did. She couldn't help but admit that the presents were cute, in his own little House way. She always had had a soft spot for his creativity.

But despite the cuteness of the presents, they terrified her. For the three weeks since their break-up, House had used every opportunity near her to be an asshole; to make her feel like shit. She couldn't understand what he trying to aim for now by suddenly being sweet. But a part of her, the part she was trying to ignore so she could stay blissfully unaware, knew that this was House's version of trying to win her back. That part scared her, because as much as she ached to have him back in her life-House was the type of person, after all, that could hook people under his spell of seduction quite easily-she couldn't allow someone who angrily abused drugs and was as emotionally unstable as he was around both Rachel and herself.

But she thought of the bear, his latest present, as of this morning, that he had given half to Rachel. Or at least, he had acknowledged that he had gotten it for her daughter to enjoy as well. The House before they had started dating hadn't given two shits about her daughter. She almost smiled thinking that his feelings had softened for Rachel in the course of their ten-month relationship.

All these thoughts had been bursting in her mind this morning; they had been brewing in her mind for the past week, really. But as soon as she saw House standing tall and lean, as always, in her office, she froze. At the moment, avoiding him had been her best way to cope. She did not want to deal with him face-to-face, scared of what he might say. Scared of what she might say or do or think.

**A/N #2: I guess review if you gave a shit.**


	2. Confrontation

**A/N: Wow, thanks for the positive responses guys! I tried to get this chapter out as quickly as possible, which also means I don't think it flows as nicely as the first chapter. As a warning, it's dialogue heavy, because that's what pissed me off the most about season 7. They never talked about anything of substance with each other, or at least we never witnessed it. Also, this is labeled as an "Angst" story so it won't be entirely happy, especially in the next chapter when I address the hooker fiasco. This will end happily though!**

III.

After glancing at Cuddy's expression, House turned behind him and quickly locked the door.

"Excuse me, what do you think you're doing?" Cuddy's voice rang out but there was a bit of a crack to her normally strong voice.

"Uh, privacy. Thought we could chat. Unless you wanted to go out in the hall?"

"I'm sorry House, but duty calls, I have a thousand things to do today," she said, her voice still not sounding as strong as she would've liked.

"Haha you said 'duty,'" he grinned as she rolled her eyes.

"I'm glad our Head of Diagnostics is as mature as ever," she shot back, standing up as though preparing to leave.

"Nuh uh. Sit that ginormous ass of yours down and let me say my spiel."

"_Let _you? Why should I?" her eyes were narrowed in annoyance already but she sat down anyway, figuring escape was futile.

Once he was certain she was staying in her chair, he made sure to get straight to the point. "Did you get the presents I left for you? Oh dear, I hope I haven't been putting them in the wrong office," he said, not able to resist slipping in a mocking comment.

"Right office. Unfortunately," she muttered the last part and House shot her a look. "What's your strategy?" She fired back, now unable to back away from the conversation.

Being around House got her blood pumping, without fail, every time. Whether from good or bad or sexy causes, he kept her on her toes and she couldn't resist sparring back. Especially when the stakes were so high.

She expected House to continue with the mocking comments but he looked her square in the eyes and all of a sudden his voice had shifted from rough to soft as he said, "I miss you. I can't stop thinking about you and I know I screwed up but you're everything I need and I want you. Please just take me back."

He was rambling, and he knew it, and he was sure the words sounded pathetic, but it was all completely honest. He _did_ need her. She _was_ his everything. He _loved_ her.

But her eyes were hard. "Screwed up? I think it was a little more than that. And I'm not just talking about your relapse. You've been nothing but cruel to me since I ended it," she said coldly.

"Exactly! _You_ ended it with _me_, remember?" his voice already rising. "What did you think, I was going to comfort you, let you cry on my shoulder? You fucking ripped my heart out Cuddy."

She angrily gestured at the door, and House understood she was worried about people outside hearing them. But it was a particularly busy day in the clinic, and frankly, House cared more about airing out this conversation than anything else. But he figured if he wanted to keep this conversation going he had to respect enough of her wishes to keep her there.

"Sorry," he said tersely.

Making sure her voice was lowered as well, Cuddy began speaking, "I didn't expect you to be there for me after our break up House and as hard of a concept as it might be for you to grasp, just because I dumped you didn't mean it wasn't hard for me as well."

House sneered at the last part, but Cuddy continued, quickly. "I guess I just didn't expect you to channel your hurt into hatred towards me. Saying this now, I'm realizing it's not that shocking, but at the time I wasn't expecting you to be so…vindictive."

"Nice SAT word choice there Cuddles. Vindictive? Fuck you." He spat this out angrily.

"You know what House, fuck you too. You force me into a conversation I don't want to have with you only to belittle and demean me as always. I'm out."

She got up to leave, for real this time, but House, sensing the severity of her tone and reluctantly admitting to himself that his harsh words weren't going to win her over anytime soon, he forced his tone to change again as he once again apologized.

"House, if you want to talk, fine, but I refuse to tolerate any more asshole remarks from you or this conversation is over and will never be brought up again. Got it?" Cuddy's words had completely regained their sharp-when-necessary tone.

"Fine," House said with a touch of petulance laced in his tone but nodded all the same.

Her voice softened as she said, "House. I truly am sorry for how we ended. I…shouldn't have just walked away, not like that, but House, you really hurt me. I know Vicodin is an addiction to you. I know relapses happen sometimes. But do you know what it feels like to lay in a foreign bed thinking you might never see your daughter or your boyfriend or anyone else in the entire world again and hope so desperately that this will be the one time the person who supposedly cares about you will put aside his emotions to be there for you? Do you know how scary and empty that feeling is, House?"

His mouth was hanging open a little in shock from the strength behind her words but she merely blinked and continued to ramble on, truly on a roll now.

"You've almost died on me more times than I want to count. And even the thought of losing you puts my heart and mind in agony but I pushed past the fear you might not wake up because I was always there for you; I always loved you. I didn't want you to be alone if you woke up. I didn't numb myself with alcohol or drugs to steel my pain, House. Do you know how much I sometimes wanted to just drink myself into oblivion, so I wouldn't have to deal with the thought of you being gone forever? But I didn't fucking do it."

House was a little defensive now, but stayed true to his word and kept his voice lowered as he replied.

"It's not the same Cuddy. You barely even drink. It's not an addiction. You also don't have a chunk of your thigh cut out so that you're in a constant state of pain, or did you forget that about me?"

"Don't," she hissed. "Don't even say something that blatantly untrue. I might not understand the pain, physically, it's true, but seeing you in pain hurts me. I don't want you to be in pain."

"Then why get mad at me for trying to fix my pain? Why dump me?" He was beginning to raise his voice but lowered it just in time.

"Because House. Sometimes I need you to push past your fears and desires and addictions for me. I'm not saying always. Hell, you missed award ceremonies, hospital banquets and charity dinners all in my name, and those are also times I'd like you to push past your distaste for such events and suck it up and just support me but I let that slide because it's not that important in the grand scheme of things."

"Agreed," House was quick to mumble as Cuddy gave a deep breath, most likely in preparation for the continuation of her rant. "Also, nice cleavage." He pointed with his cane.

She glared before moving on. "But I think me being that scared about _dying_ is a big enough deal for you to be selfless and care about how I'm doing. And not steel the pain by coming to me while high. I needed you to be my anchor in my one time of need, and maybe that was selfish of me, but I really, really needed you there that night. All of you, fully functioning."

Normally House would've grinned lecherously at her last comment, but her words were finally beginning to make a dent in his reasoning. He had thought she wouldn't notice him being high in the first place was the first defense his brain came up with. It was a shitty excuse, but he decided this was his last chance to explain himself to her before she kicked him out.

"I think one of my problems is I think of you as unbreakable. Even when I don't deserve it, you've always been there for me. You've been in my life for so long I guess I always count on you to be there. I need you and I love you and you are who makes me happy. Don't you understand how terrified I was of losing the one person who matters to me?"

"Please. You would have Wilson to pick up the pieces," she couldn't help but mention.

"And you have Rachel," House was quick to reply.

"Yes, I'm going to rely on my young child to comfort me. I'm her protector House, not the other way around. And what's your point, anyway?"

For once House didn't say anything. He really didn't have a point. He simply couldn't resist having the last word sometimes.

"And also, House, you need to learn to be happy on your own. You say I'm the only person who makes you happy? Well stop using me as another one of your addictions. It's not healthy and it's not fair to me."

"It's not fair that I love you more than anyone else?"

"It's not fair that you depend on me to be happy. I have a thousand responsibilities House, including running an entire hospital and raising a child. I'm sure you're sitting there scoffing at that, but it is exhausting House. Why am I always the one expected to take care of you? Why can you never take care of me? Or Rachel for that matter?"

Her voice was starting to crack again as her words hung in the air.

"I babysat her," he said, lamely.

"After I had to bribe you House! Do you know how much that hurts, having to practically force your boyfriend to do a simple favor for you?" She took a deep breath and prepared to deliver what she thought was an important line.

"That's the thing, House. You can't just be there when it's easy. I know you like easy-" (here she shot him a disgusted look) "-but an adult relationship has its downfalls too. I can't be with someone who's only along for the ride if it's easy and convenient for him, I need someone who will be there for me when things get rough, when things aren't sunshine and rainbows."

House swallowed hard. It was true. Almost everything she said was valid. He did shy away from any aspect of the relationship that he didn't consider fun or easy to deal with. If it put him in a position he wasn't comfortable with (like any of her hospital dinners or extra babysitting or her night in the hospital), he spent more time trying to avoid those situations than suck it up for a couple of hours, for her.

"Fine, Cuddy, you're right. Does that make you feel better?" He said the last part bitterly.

"No, not really," she sighed. "I guess thank you for even listening to my reasoning at all, I know earlier you were too furious with me to even listen to my point of view."

"I wasn't furious," he replied with vigor.

She raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow.

"Ok, fine, so maybe I was. I just didn't expect you to leave after one mistake, Cuddy. I mean, Jesus, you've known me for years on Vicodin. It was one relapse and you couldn't even stand by my side? So much for your whole 'I don't want you to change' bullshit."

He was lashing out, partly because he did want to address this one point that had bothered him for a while, and partly because he was sick of hearing these awful truths about himself.

Cuddy looked away, not able to meet his blazing eyes. This was the one issue she knew she had fucked up considerably and she had been waiting, in anxious anticipation, for him to finally address it. Mustering up inner-strength, she turned to look him in the eye once again.

"Ok. I hate to admit it, but you're right. It's true I played the role of the woman so wrapped up in newfound bliss she didn't care about anything else. I was wrong to mislead you. When I said I didn't want you to change, that was partly true. Part of your charm is your blatant disregard for standard societal norms, ok?"

She paused, waiting for her words to sink in before continuing. "Do you remember when I told you that you were the most interesting man I have ever known and will ever know? It's still true. It will always be true."

"But you need someone stable, like Lucas," House sneered. "Interesting isn't enough for you, I guess."

"In our relationship you always said I deserved the best. Do you think interesting is the best for me House? Is that all I deserve? I deserve someone who can be there for my daughter and me-sober, might I add-all the time, not just when it's convenient for him."

She sounded so determined, so invested in her words that House was really beginning to panic. What if this one (and in his mind, only) chance failed? He _needed_ her back. She sounded so sure of what she needed, and it wasn't him. As a last ditch remark, he said, desperately, "What if I quit Vicodin again?"

She froze. She had never expected him to say those words. In her fantasies, late at night, in between flipping on her vibrator and wiping away tears hastily, she had pictured him saying those words to her. Never had she truly believed he'd be offering this sacrifice outside of her fantasies though. Her heart thumped away wildly in her chest as she pondered his words.


	3. Understanding

**A/N: Sorry for the really long delay. I don't want to get into details, but my sister broke my computer and I've been dealing with unfortunate RL shenanigans. I'm very unhappy with how my story is turning out to be honest, mostly because my ideas are so scattered about. I really want to address the hooker situation (because I think jealousy is a key aspect to the Huddy relationship, and I've seen this issue ignored in both the show and so many other stories) but it doesn't really fit in yet. These are such complex characters, and it's difficult to explore their dynamic. Hopefully some of you are still reading (and enjoying). **

IV.

Trying to buy time, Cuddy slowly asked, "And why would you quit?"

House looked at her as if she were stupid. "For you, of course, what other reason would stop me from using?"

She cocked her head and squinted at him, trying to see if he was serious about his offer. When she fantasized about them getting back together, the fantasy always involved House quitting Vicodin in some form. However, as she considered it, she remembered when

_She shifted restlessly in her bed, seeking warmth from House, only to realize he wasn't in her bed. She turned to the alarm clock on her nightstand, which read 3:24 AM in bright red letters. It was way too early for House to be up, heck, it was way too early for even her. For a few seconds she tried to remember if House had spent the night and when she realized he had, she started to feel the first inkling of alarm. _

_Turning on the lamp next to her alarm clock, she pulled on the light robe she had earlier draped over a chair. She was pretty sure House wasn't in the adjoining bathroom of her bedroom as the door was slightly ajar and the light wasn't on. She made her way to the living room quietly and stopped dead in her tracks when she saw House rocking back and forth on her couch. He was hunched over in a way that her presence was blocked from him. It was clear he was in a considerable amount of pain, most likely the only reason he had failed to notice her yet. _

_He was mumbling words to himself incoherently and his hands were alternating from vigorously rubbing his thigh and balling into fists. His other, functional thigh was jiggling, perhaps in a futile attempt to distract him. As Cuddy neared House, he finally looked her way. His eyes were watering from the pain, but they were not red or glassy. It was clear he was sober._

"_House," she began, softly, not quite sure what to say. "Can I help you? Let me help you."_

_She reached out to touch his face but he jerked it away._

_His voice barely a croak, he feebly said, "Just go back to bed. There's nothing you can do. Or that I can do. Or that anyone can do." He trailed off, looking hopeless._

_Normally House was such an arrogant jerk that Cuddy sometime forgot how vulnerable he truly was. Ignoring his words, she gently sad besides him and cautiously began rubbing his damaged leg through his jeans. House was very tense, that much was obvious. And yet, he allowed her to continue moving her hands over the missing chunk of muscle. It appeared he was at a stage of pain that he didn't have the energy to fight anyone. _

_After a good ten minutes of consistently working his thigh over with her firm hands, Cuddy chanced a glance in House's direction. His eyes were screwed shut but the beginnings of tears were leaking from them. His hands were still clenched, but less so. He still looked the picture of pain, only turned down a couple of notches. _

"_Have you taken anything?" Cuddy asked out of the blue._

_House's watering eyes popped open, and he looked furious. Enraged, really. "You're asking me…you have the nerve-the nerve to fucking ask me if I'm on Vicodin? If I had taken Vicodin, I wouldn't be in this situation…and you have, what, the ball…the nerve to question my sobriety? He could barely finish sentences, he was still breathing hard._

_Cuddy's eyes had widened at his outburst, but she kept her voice and tone soft. "No House. I know you're not on Vicodin, give me some credit. I am a doctor after all." She ignored his half-hearted eye roll and continued, "I just meant have you taken any Ibuprofen or Advil or anything."_

"_You think those…those fucking shit piece of pills do crap for me and my pain?" He was lashing out; just so angry at the state of pain he was in. Cuddy could sense this and let it slide._

"_I know. I know they don't," she said soothingly. _

"_I just…I hate, so much, that I feel so weak in front of you. In front of everyone. I hate this Cuddy, I hate this." House was sounding more frantic now, showing a rare moment of acknowledged vulnerability. _

"_House. Look at me," Cuddy said this firmly, moving her hands from his legs to lovingly place them against the sides of his face. "You are a man, more than most I know. I can't even imagine how hard this is to cope with and yet you manage almost everyday to hide the pain. From me, from Wilson, from everyone. You make your pain look manageable and I'm sorry I've been so fooled."_

"_Don't." He said weakly. "Don't make this about your guilt…I can't…I can't handle that right now."_

_Cuddy looked a little hurt at that comment but brushed it aside, refusing to let it bother her more than it should. _

"_I'm sorry. I don't want this to be about me. I just want you to know I have never thought you were less manly for the position you are in. Do you know that House?"_

_He gave the slightest nod as a confirmation although Cuddy wasn't sure if he was just trying to appease her or he really believed what she said. _

_He turned to her, before she could continue indulging her million and one thoughts racing through her brain, and softly said, "Thank you."_

_Her eyes widened. House saying "thank you" (sincerely) was as rare as House dancing around in a Santa outfit on Christmas. _

_House's eyes were beginning to glaze a bit, she suspected from the pain and sheer exhaustion, but he continued talking, albeit a little reluctantly. _

"_I just mean, thank you for believing me. That I didn't take drugs, Thank you for at least pretending you think I'm man enough. I…I love you." He said the last part so softly, she barely could hear it._

_She chose to kiss him on his forehead as acknowledgement for his words. She knew he was too worn out from the pain to want to talk much longer. It hurt her to see him trying to act so brave all the time. It hurt her that he was in so much pain. She knew he was sick of her guilt, but it still crept up in her thoughts when she thought of his pain. She just wanted him to feel better._

"Um. Earth to Cuddy," House snarked.

Broken from her reverie, Cuddy looked over at present-day House. She had been so lost in her memory, she almost expected him to still be hunched over in pain. But he wasn't. Because of the Vicodin. She thought this last part half sadly, half resigned.

And yet, it seemed to finally hit her. House needed the Vicodin. He was simply in too much pain for basic painkillers like Advil to make any dent. However, she knew he abused the Vicodin more than necessary-much more-and that bothered her more than she liked to admit. With that conclusion, an idea formed in Cuddy's head.

She steeled herself for his reaction to her proposition; positive he would aggressively put down her compromise.


	4. Compromise

**A/N: I'm sorry for the lengthy time in between updates. As a once avid reader of fanfiction, that used to grate my nerves when authors would be inconsistent with updates. I lost a bit of my initial inspiration, but I'm currently on vacation and at 1 AM I got it back! Here's a bit of conclusion to our favorite couple!**

V.

"I can't get back together with you, House." Cuddy said this firmly, about to continue when House abruptly stood up. Understanding that he assumed that meant the end of the conversation, she quickly got to her point.

"House. Sit down! Will you let me finish or would you like to jump to conclusions about everything?"

"You just said there's no chance between us," House pouted. "What's the point in staying?"

Exasperated, Cuddy couldn't help but roll her eyes. "I wasn't finished, jerk. If you had let me continue I would've gone on to say I can't be in a relationship with you if you're going to continue to abuse Vicodin."

"Yeah, I got that," House said grumpily. "That's probably why I offered to quit using them. For you," he added, stressing the last part.

Cuddy tried to think as quickly as possible about how to phrase what she was about to say. Of course, this was harder to do when her ex was staring at her with an intense look in his eyes. She (and every other female) had always been drawn to his eyes. She suspected he knew the power behind his beautiful baby blues, because he always kept eye contact with her when he was trying to persuade her over some matter or another.

"I know you're in chronic pain," she said finally, ignoring his loud snort. "Sometimes I do forget about the severity of your pain because you hide it so well, but it does bother me, House."

"It bothers you? Try living with it!" House surprisingly had remembered to keep his voice down, per her order, but he looked very unhappy. Offended, really.

"I _do_ live with it. Everyday, just like you," she said, very softly.

Initially House could barely suppress rolling his eyes at Cuddy's remark, but the softness in her tone stopped him. He knew Cuddy had an abnormally large guilt complex, but sometimes he forgot how much blame she held for his leg. He supposed it didn't help when he made snide comments about his pain to her. In fact, he guiltily thought, his comments about leg pain (and how he was remedying it) had increased in the past three weeks, all in an attempt to hurt her as much as he was. As much as he wanted her to think he was perfectly fine, he also wanted to flaunt her guilt in her face. He shook his head a little, trying to rid his thoughts. Shame was one of the worst feelings in the spectrum, he decided.

Cuddy was surprised that House had yet to say anything. She had expected yet another harsh barb from his lips, and aside from a restrained eye roll, he had kept quiet.

"House, you're not the only one in chronic pain." She didn't waver at his sarcastic look, "I didn't mean me, idiot. I just mean thousands and thousands of people across the world are in chronic pain too. I'm not trying to diminish the intensity of your pain House, but just because you're in pain does not give you the excuse to abuse your medicine."

"I'm not abusing my meds, Cuddy, I'm just trying to cope. Lets rip _your_ thigh muscle out so you know how it feels, shall we?" He was practically seething, his glare especially potent at that moment.

"Please, you totally abuse your Vicodin. Why else would you need to steal Wilson's pad to get a new prescription when you should still have plenty of pills left? And you just knock them back, more than one at a time, without a care in the world about how much of a…junkie you look like." She said the last part hesitantly, knowing House would not take well to her comment.

If House was seething before, he was livid now. "I. Am. In. Pain." He enunciated every word, looking straight into her eyes.

She gulped, but valiantly continued, "I know. I know, House. And I'm so sorry, I really am, but you cannot continue to abuse your Vicodin if you want to be with me."

"So you're giving me an ultimatum?"

Scoffing she replied, "Weren't you the one who initially proposed to quit. For me?" She too stressed the last words as he had.

She expected some nasty quip in return, but House merely stared at her, doing an impressive imitation of a goldfish.

Stuttering, he said, "I didn't exactly-well, I just…I didn't expect you to agree to it."

Now the tables had turned as Cuddy stared at House with fury in her eyes. "So, basically what you're telling me is you're offering me something while all the while expecting I'll say no so you don't have to change anything about yourself?"

"Well, you're the one who said you didn't want me to change." House said, petulantly.

"That was last time. I think we established already how wrong I was, ok? If I'm ever getting back together with you, a lot is changing."

House straightened up. This was the first time she had ever mentioned the possibility of them having another chance. He felt like a boy, a terribly nervous boy trying to casually talk to a crush. He marveled at how Cuddy could reduce him to feeling like he was talking to a first crush. He wondered, in dismay, how many other men she had this affect over. Realizing his mind was beginning to wander, he shifted in his chair, giving his full attention to Cuddy once more.

"What changes, then?" House said slowly, if not reluctantly.

"Well, first of all, I've come to the conclusion that you're in too much pain to not be taking Vicodin." She paused to glare at House after he fist pumped at her words. "Not finished, House. That being said, if we're going to ever give it another try, I cannot have you abusing Vicodin. Not around me, and not around my daughter. And by that I mean, you can only take a certain amount of Vicodin a day, to be spread out through the day as you wish. Only I will be authorized to get you a new prescription, and only I will be allowed to pick it up. No more abusing Wilson's prescription pad or pretending to be one of us or whatever you do to get your pills."

House looked shocked. For some reason, he was less fond of this idea then quitting altogether. He knew though that a large part of that had to do with Cuddy being in charge of his daily dosages.

"And what if something goes wrong in our hypothetical future relationship and you're so pissed at me that you stop filling my prescription?" There was genuine alarm in his voice. The moment Cuddy had introduced the idea of her being in charge of his prescriptions it had been his main concern. Oddly enough, Cuddy looked pissed off.

"Do you remember when we first started our relationship? You asked me what if something went wrong? Would I terminate your employment? Well I think it's safe to say things went pretty Goddamn wrong, don't you think? Not only did we both suffer from an ended, highly public relationship, you've been nothing but a complete asshole to me ever since. Do you still think you haven't hurt me? You're sorely mistaken if you think otherwise and yet I still kept you at this hospital despite how angry and hurt I felt."

Cuddy's voice was shrill at this point and her words were almost running into one another, due to her sudden bout of anger.

House quickly reflected on the conversation, despite Cuddy's agitated state. Nothing was going according to plan, not that he had had one to begin with, really. He sure as hell knew he had never envisioned offering to give up Vicodin only to have Cuddy tell him he _could _take it, but under her regulations. However, he knew he had few other options if he truly wanted to be with Cuddy again. And after the numerous times he had fucked up, he appreciated that she was giving him another chance to begin with. He almost wondered if there was something mentally wrong with her to allow him back in her life after he had outrageously proved time after time how capable he was of destructive behavior. But he supposed that was their mutual and biggest flaw: They were hopelessly meant to be. Internally he groaned as he realized his thoughts were turning to mush, but he couldn't help it. As upset as he was about having to give over control over his Vicodin consumption (as far as he could tell, Cuddy would remove all possible loopholes, and he didn't want to push his second-or third, or fiftieth chance) he was thrilled about the conclusion of this conversation.

Cuddy for that matter was not entirely happy. House was simply brooding in front of her, as if he was in a far away land. She wondered if he had even heard her last point. Unaware that he was about to comply with her one demand, she waved a hand in front of his face, reluctantly growing concerned over his quiet state.

"Huh?" House said in one of his less than eloquent moments.

"Sorry to bring you back to Earth," Cuddy said, unable to resist the touch of sarcasm, "But did you hear anything that I just said?"

Surprisingly House had managed to hear what she had said despite his inner swarm of thoughts. "Yeah, yeah, you didn't fire me before, you won't this time, I'm an asshole, blah blah blah."

After seeing her death glare he knew his blasé tone was not helping matters and quickly amended his previous statement.

"Relax, Cuddy, even if you're not used to it. So if I agree to your terms about Vicodin, we can start a second chance at our relationship?" He couldn't help but let the excitement creep into his voice.

Now Cuddy was hesitant. She hadn't expected him to jump aboard so quickly, expecting him to at least take a few hours, if not days, to ponder over her proposal.

House, sensing her reluctance grew indignant. "Now look who's offering things to the table only to revoke them!"

Cuddy sighed. House, when using normal human logic in emotional situations, was usually right. This was one of those situations. She couldn't help but wonder what everyone at the hospital was going to say. She could only picture how high Wilson's eyebrows would rise and she almost smirked at the image of his typical hands-on-his-hips pose he used when conveying his apprehension. She knew her sister would disapprove. She wasn't as sure about her mother. She knew Rachel would be ecstatic to have her eccentric adult friend back, and this made her smile. Although she wasn't looking forward to the judgmental looks she knew without a doubt she's receive, and the whispers behind her back, she knew her daughter would be all the happier with this conclusion. And despite all that had happened, she knew being back with House was what she had desperately and secretly longed for all these weeks without him. He could commit the most despicably cruel acts to her and she still loved him; still wanted him. It made her feel like an unstable, hopeless romantic. But he was the love of her life, this she knew, and she simply couldn't help how she felt.

Looking him square in the eye, she took in a shaky breath, and said, "I'm willing to give us another chance if you are."

**A/N #2: I'm expecting at least one more chapter after this, so it's not the end. Is anyone still interested? **


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